


Glory

by Gaylord147



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Future AU, M/M, Werewolf, angery boi, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaylord147/pseuds/Gaylord147
Summary: The entire story is based on this song.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iad-ixZRlK4"Glory" by Dermot Kennedy





	1. Glory

**Author's Note:**

> The entire story is based on this song.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iad-ixZRlK4  
> "Glory" by Dermot Kennedy

**DESCRIPTION**

_Genetically modified humans walk the streets of 2145's London. Detective Investigator Greg Lestrade is a werewolf, a discriminated group of people, thought to be violent and untrustworthy. Most people in the police force are terrified of him, barely even being able to bring up their eyes when he walks into the room._

_But a vampire takes up the challenge of being his partner. Mycroft Holmes, another outcast, is too smart for his own good and constantly gets himself in trouble, driving people away and barely letting anyone get close._

_On the case of a grisly murder, they come to find that a werewolf is at fault. A young woman is torn to shreds in an dark and abandoned alley way, her guts spread across the cold asphalt._

_When the race of the murderer is exposed, it only gets worse for the fluffy detective. But Mycroft won't let anyone bring harm to his partner, and now friend._

 

 

**WARNINGS**

_/Profanity_

_/Gore_

_/Sexual Scenes_

_/LGBT+ Content_

Don't like? Don't read. Thank you!  
-xx

 


	2. 1.

_"For all the moments never known_   
_'Cause he stepped off of the tallest sail_   
_For all the love he'd left below_   
_In the waves"_

**_-Glory by Dermot Kennedy_ **

* * *

Greg pulls his jacket closer to him, crushing his cigarette beneath his boot heel. He watches the glowing embers slowly simmer out before turning up his collar to the wind and heading inside of the bar. He pulls himself up on a bar stool and waves the bartender over.

"What can I get ya?" The man asks.

This guy wasn't the normal bartender. The usual man was a friendly orc who would listen to how your day had been. He'd grown kind of attached to him.

This bartender was an elf. His skin was like porcelain and it seemed to glint in the sleazy glow of the neon signs of the bar. His hair was a brighter white than even his skin. It was the color of pearls and soap bubbles, like the first snow of the year or freshly laundered towels. His voice seemed American, not nearly as sharp as the rest of the accents that echoed on London's foggy streets.

"You gonna order?" The guy asks, knocking Greg from his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry... I'll take a scotch. Where's Mark?" He asks.

"He's out on a date. Found himself a nice guy on the train last night." Greg nodded along, a small smile painted his lips.

"Well, I'm happy for him. I just wish I were as lucky." He grabs the glass that the bartender had passed him and downs it.

"You know, I could get someone to cover my shift." The guy says, raising a silver eyebrow at him and tossing him a smile.

Greg looks up, slightly surprised.

"I'll hail a cab."

\---

The elf rolls off of Greg, panting like a dog. "Oh, Gods." He whispers, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing.

"It's been a while." Greg says, breathing just as heavily. "Really takes it out of you."

Erin (that turned out to be his name) snuggles into the man's side, smiling slightly. "Tiring, but fun." He turns to look at the clock and his eyes go wide. "Oh, _shit_!" He shouts, kicking the duvet off of his lower half. "I have to go."

"What? C'mon, we just had the best snogging I've had in months. You can't spend the night?" Greg asks, his voice tired and laced with sleep.

"I'm sorry, babe. But I have to go home and make sure my dogs haven't pissed in my floor." He explains, hastily pulling on his black jeans.

Greg chuckles, noticing that they were on backwards. "You sure your boyfriend can't bloody wait?" He asks.

Erin freezes, his icy blue eyes glinting in the sharp moonlight pouring in from Greg's window. He sighs, a sad smile playing on his lips.

"You're good, hon." He walks over, brushing his bangs from his bright eyes and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'm gonna miss you... I hope I see you again soon."

And with that, the elf leaves Greg lying in his bed. Lonely, just like every other night, and rather cold. With the small frame next to him, on top of him, below him, he barely even noticed the low temperature of his bedroom.

Greg pulls the blankets around his bare body and sighs, closing his eyes and desperately forcing sleep to overcome him.

 


	3. 2.

_"'Cause I carried on like the wayward son_   
_And now through and through I have come undone_   
_And now I am just but the wayward man_   
_What with my bloodshot eyes and my shaky hands"_

**_-Hallucinogenics by Matt Maeson_ **

* * *

 

Mycroft loosens his tie, stepping into the lift. He presses the button for the second floor and feels the contraption sink to his destination.

In the slight privacy of that small lift, he lets himself droop. His spine curls and he huffs, blowing a small strand of hair from his eyes.

" _God_... What am I going to do?"

And as the sliding doors open wide, he fixes his posture and straightens his tie, allowing himself the minimum of two minutes of peace. He walks into the large office and navigates his way to his boss' office, pressing his knuckle to the door and knocking quietly.

"Come in, Holmes."

The man enters and looks to the harsh looking woman. She was in her late forties, her hair slightly graying. The ring line on her finger shows that she was married once. Widowed, she still has pictures of him and her two daughters on her desk. She had deep frown lines and her eyes were dark and green as the forest at midnight.

She was a very beautiful woman, but she was tough, durable. She knew how to bark out orders and get shit done. In her younger years, her hair was no doubt raven black, as dark as the feathers of a crow. Without the crinkles and lines of her woes and years of annoyance, she'd be stunning.

"You know why your here, don't you, Holmes?" The woman asks.

Mycroft only nods, his mouth staying shut in respect.

"You're smart. I like that... Which makes you perfect for this job." She bends down and grabs a file from her desk. She hands it to Mycroft, allowing him to glance through it, taking in the information like a machine.

"Your new partner, Greg Lestrade. He's a good DI but a bit of a lit fuse. He can't control his temper, but I guess that comes with the whole werewolf thing." She explains, waving a hand as if it meant nothing.

Mycroft looks up from the file, his eyes sparkling with surprise. "Werewolf?"

"Yeah. He's genetically modified. Everyone's terrified of him, and for good reason, but he's been having trouble keeping partners. And now, the job's come to you."

"And why have I come to the task?" The man asks, closing the file and setting it on the desk.

"I told you, he's had trouble keeping partners. You're the perfect person for the job. You don't take shit from anyone. You're loyal. You're smart. You'll keep him in line, Holmes... So, will you take the job?"

Mycroft looks down at the file setting there on the desk. He lets the image of the DI flicker across his mind. He was rather attractive, silver hair and dark eyes. He had the face of a fox and the discipline record of a jungle animal. He was surprised he wasn't fired yet, or at least suspended.

He takes a deep breath and nods.

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

The woman nods, a small smile across her face. "That's what I like to hear. You'll start tomorrow. I'll bring you both in in the morning to discuss the case."

And with that, he leaves her office, desperately trying to forget how attractive the picture of the man was.

He had a wolfish smile. It was as if he knew you fancied him through the camera. Mycroft would be lying if he said that he wasn't excited to work with this beast.

But he's a werewolf...

A werewolf with an anger problem, no less.

And how was he supposed to know if he was gay or not?

 

* * *

 


	4. 3.

_"I cope smothered in smoke_   
_Deep high, drape my soul in_   
_I know things that you don't_   
_I've met murdering folk_   
_And they took one of our own_   
_They took our innocent home"_

**_-Me And My Friends Are Lonely by Matt Maeson_ **

* * *

 

The next day, Greg gets out of bed with a sigh of annoyance. He gives his dog, Anya, a small scratch behind the ears and heads to his bathroom, taking a long and very hot shower. The small beads of water massage the muscles in his back. The jet of steaming liquid falls against his bare body and he closes his eyes, letting himself sink into thought.

_Who's going to be my new partner?_

_What's the case we're going to be working on?_

But one thought stuck out the most.

_Will they fear me?_

Being a werewolf and a DI wasn't exactly easy. Especially when you have anger issues. People were terrified of him. They thought he would explode, his skin falling away to expose the silver fur beneath, his lips pulling back to bare razor sharp fangs.

Each time he'd growl in anger at the smallest of things, people would scamper out of the the room, as if their tail was tucked between their legs.

Greg scrubs some shampoo into his hair, scraping his fingertips across his scalp. He rinses his body and hair and steps from the shower, wrapping a towel around his lower half. He steps into his bedroom, the air blasting from the AC nipping at his ankles and chest. Chillbumps cover his body as he switches on his stereo to a random song.

_"I can't open up to you_   
_Me and my friends are lonely_   
_I don't know what to do_   
_I always figured I'd be the one to die alone"_

Greg hums along to the song as he dresses. About halfway through the song, he switches off the stereo and pulls on his shoes, walking to the front door. He gives Anya one last pat and exits his small flat, pulling his coat over his shoulders and smoothing out the wrinkles.

With a small sigh, he walks to his car and drives to work, letting smooth jazz play through the speakers.

Greg wasn't lonely. He doesn't need someone to come home to. He doesn't need someone to hold at night, to love and cherish.

Although, it would be nice.

But who could love someone like him? Grisly and mean, a double edged sword, a lit fuse. He was dangerous and he knew that. Nobody could risk being with him.

Greg pulls himself out of his thoughts as he pulls up to the station. He walks in, tossing his coat across the back of his chair and heading to his boss' office.

As he walks to the door, he scans the name printed in dark grey Optima on the purposely fogged glass.

_Cheryl Lang_

_Commander_

With a deep breath, the werewolf gently knocks on the door, awaiting his invitation to enter.

"Come in, Detective."

 


End file.
